


Storm Clouds on Both of Our Lips

by antiquitea



Category: Actor RPF, Silicon Valley (TV), Silicon Valley RPF
Genre: Angst and Feels, I'll Write Something Light and Fluffy One Day I Promise, M/M, Oh no there's only one bed, Porn with Feelings, This Was Not Supposed to Have So Much Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 22:39:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12177888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antiquitea/pseuds/antiquitea
Summary: Sure, he thinks Zach is a good looking guy, and maybe kinda sorta has a schoolboy level crush on him, but it's just that - a crush. Zach is so funny, intelligent, and bafflingly weird that it's impossible for anyone not to be drawn to him.None of that means that they're going to fuck.





	Storm Clouds on Both of Our Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. It happened. I wrote Silicon Valley RPF. I apologize in advance. Thank you to [reserve](http://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/pseuds/reserve) for encouraging this ... I think? Yes, of course. Who am I kidding? It was bound to happen eventually.
> 
> Title comes from [Tokyo Summer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YAq1EUg15bk) by The Mounties. It's always reminded me of Vancouver Island for some reason (relevant, I promise).

Thomas isn’t entirely certain why he invites Zach to join him for a week up in British Columbia, but the words are out of his mouth long before he realizes that it might be sort of weird, long before it dawns on him that he can’t take them back. It's not like it was a group thing and Zach was just one of the people he asked. No, it was only Zach. Explicitly Zach.

He’d planned a week away for himself and Mollie as a surprise months ago, but she’s got her own work to attend to. Having to cancel the booking at the cottage in Tofino would be a hassle - and mean the loss of the deposit he’d put down. So … Zach. And it dawns on him far too late that due to the fact it was something that he'd planned for himself and his wife that there is only going to be one bed.

Jesus Christ, it’s like a bad movie. Or one of those stories he stumbled upon online about Richard and Jared having to share a bed at some tech conference. That ended in sex. This is unlikely to, Thomas tells himself. This is real life. Not sexy fanfiction.

Zach makes an offhand comment about finally getting to “meet the parents,” despite the fact that he's already met them. And the fact that Tofino is nowhere near Nelson but Thomas realized long ago that Canadian geography is no one's forte. Nevertheless, Thomas jabs him in the arm as if that will hide the fact that his cheeks feel incredibly red.

No parents, no one else for that matter. After inviting Zach, Thomas asks just about everyone else in the cast, and anyone else he considers even a bit of an acquaintance if they might want to join, even though it would be a logistical nightmare - no one has the time. Prior engagements, other sets to be on, their own plans that don’t involve going up to Canada for a week, just about every excuse that most people would use in an attempt to set two friends up.

Thomas doesn’t care for that shit at all.

.     .     .

Getting to Vancouver Island is an inexplicable hassle, despite Victoria being the provincial capital.  Few flights seem to actually go directly there from essentially anywhere, so they need to fly to Vancouver first, and then to the island. Then there's the matter of getting to Tofino, which is on the other side of the island and a four hour drive.

Bad. This is a bad idea.

To his credit, Zach doesn't kick up much of a fuss about the travel time, but if Thomas were in his position he surely would. But Zach is far more polite than he is. He makes sure to rent a car that has a lot of leg room so Zach can stretch those obscenely long legs out during their drive.

Zach spends a lot of the drive looking out the window, and Thomas can't blame him. He's forgotten how gorgeous the island is, how the trees stretch up to the heavens, practically touching the clouds. He'd only stayed on the island long enough to go to UVic for a year and then drop out, and he'd spent most of his nights downtown getting drunk and trying to chat up pretty girls and not up island.

They occasionally pull over to the side of the road, so Zach can marvel at something, usually a particularly tall tree or the view of the mountains that one can see from afar. Thomas feels like a bit of a curmudgeon next to Zach, who is so full of wonder, and they're not even at their destination yet. All he can think about is one queen sized bed, and how asking Zach to join him on what was meant to be a romantic getaway with his wife may have been ill advised.

When they arrive at their accommodations after hours of driving, which was preceded by hours of air travel, Thomas feels so exhausted that he can't be bothered to care about awkward the next week is going to be.

Heron Cottage, nestled among soaring cedars with views of Tofino Inlet is much more romantic looking than Thomas had remembered from the website. He watches as Zach sets his bag down, and does a cursory glance around before remembering - _shit_ \- that he actually forgot to tell him that there was only one bed.

“Is it just the one bed?” Zach asks, turning to look at Thomas.

“Yeah, man,” Thomas replies, scratching at his chin. “Sorry, I forgot to mention. Don't worry about it, I'll take the couch.”

“What? Don't be silly. You booked the place, you get the bed.”

“You won't fit on the couch,” Thomas says very matter-of-factly. “Honestly, please don't worry about it. I can sleep anywhere. And that couch looks very inviting.”

“If you're sure …” Zach says, his voice trailing off.

“Yes, I'm sure,” Thomas replies, grabbing Zach’s bag off the floor and moving toward the bedroom.

Entering the bedroom, Thomas can feel how hot his cheeks are upon looking at the bed, and there is no possible way he can eliminate that many rose petals before Zach follows in behind him.

“Oh,” Zach says, upon seeing the state of the bed, along with the complimentary champagne sitting in a bucket full of ice on the nightstand. “You. Forgot to tell them that Mollie wasn't coming anymore, didn't you?”

“Yeah,” Thomas groans, wishing that he could pull his ballcap entirely over his face.

“Well, no point in wasting good champagne,” Zach says, grabbing the bottle and the two glasses. “It's been a long day. I think we’ve earned this.”

Thomas doesn't protest and follows Zach back out to the living room, wondering if his face will just stay red permanently. He's not even sure what he's embarrassed about. Sure, he thinks Zach is a good looking guy, and maybe kinda sorta has a schoolboy level crush on him, but it's just that - a crush. Zach is so funny, intelligent, and bafflingly weird that it's impossible for anyone _not_ to be drawn to him.

None of that means that they're going to fuck.

It's early enough that they could probably go into town and find something to do, but they've done so much travelling that it feels much later than it is. They drink their champagne and realize about halfway through the bottle that they probably should've picked up some food along the way to stock the fridge with, especially considering Zach’s incredibly low alcohol tolerance. Thomas finds a package of chocolate covered blueberries tucked away in a cabinet which will probably satiate them until they venture out for breakfast the following morning.

Sprawled on the couch, drinking expensive champagne and eating junk food, laughing and telling stories about the past few months of working on the show, it doesn't feel nearly as awkward as Thomas expected that it might. With Zach seemingly paying no mind to the fact that this was meant to be a romantic getaway, it definitely makes it easier to forget.

The bed ends up not being an issue, as they both fall asleep on the couch, Thomas still sitting upright, head tipped back as he snores, Zach with his legs draped over Thomas’s lap, face crammed between two throw pillows.

.     .     .

Their first day in Tofino it rains.

By the time Thomas wakes up, Zach is already back from having gone into town to get food, and is busy in the kitchen making breakfast, a full pot of coffee on. It's the sound of the timer on the stove going off that rouses him from his sleep, and the smell of coffee that has him standing up and making his way to the kitchen. Zach hands him a mug of coffee, and Thomas proclaims his love.

It's not weird. He could easily be talking to the coffee.

Thomas had grand ambitions of going down to the beach, maybe surfing (which he's done all of maybe five times in his life), but he's not dead set on it enough to do it in the rain. He didn't think to bring anything for indoor activities - though he should've known better given BC’s penchant for rain.

Zach, who Thomas thinks is infinitely brighter than him, had the foresight to load his Kindle up with books. Over breakfast he suggests that they could read together. Thomas chuckles, asking, “What, like you would read to me?”

Zach shrugs. “It's an option.”

The rain shows no signs of letting up, coming down in torrents out of the sky. After showering, Thomas heads into the living room to find Zach occupying much of the couch, engrossed in a book. Thomas pulls out his phone, only to discover that he has virtually no bars and curses under his breath. Zach shifts his legs to make room for Thomas on the couch, who flops unceremoniously down onto it.

“What are you reading?” Thomas asks after a few minutes of silence.

“ _Good Omens_.”

“Huh.”

Thomas listens to the rain outside, watches a drop slide down the window pane. Despite the rain, he still wants to go to the beach later, apparently the waves can get ridiculously intense. He’s not certain how long he spends staring out the window, but eventually Zach is rearranging himself on the couch once more, and rests his head on Thomas’s lap. Thomas inhales sharply and holds his breath, as if doing anything will disturb Zach, as if he were some wild animal (definitely a bird, if he wanted to get specific). Zach is clicking furiously on his eReader for a few moments, before he’s clearing his throat and glancing up at Thomas.

“It was a nice day. All the days had been nice. There had been rather more than seven of them so far, and rain hadn’t been invented yet. But clouds massing east of Eden suggested that the first thunderstorm was on its way, and it was going to be a big one ...”

Smiling, Thomas closes his eyes and lets the warmth of Zach’s voice wash over him. Zach employs a couple of various voices as he reads, to differentiate between the characters, and Thomas can’t help but chuckle just a little.

It’s instinct that guides his hand to Zach’s hair.

It’s something else that has him leaving it there.

.     .     .

The rain lets up long enough for them to decide to go outside, get their jackets on just in case, and step outside before it starts again. Thomas says, “Fuck it,” and begins walking, Zach following closely behind. They make it halfway to the beach before Thomas steps in what he thinks is a puddle, but is actually a hole that has him in water up to his knee. Zach takes a few moments to laugh before helping a cursing Thomas remove his leg from the hole.

“We’ll go to the beach some other time this week,” Zach says as they walk back to the cottage, one of Thomas’s legs sounding extra squishy as they walk.

Not wanting to track too much water into the cottage, Thomas stands on the small porch in front of it, attempting to peel his wet jeans off of his legs, Zach standing just over the threshold with what looks like the driest, fluffiest towel that Thomas has ever seen. Once Thomas is freed from the soaking wet denim, Zach reaches out and helps him wrap the towel around his waist as he steps inside.

Thomas pretends not to notice the way Zach’s hand lingers for a brief moment on the curve of his ass.

.     .     .

Zach calls it a night and shuffles off to the bedroom, and Thomas needs to remind himself that he’s not meant to follow. It then occurs to him that he needs a blanket or something if he’s going to sleep on the couch, and follows him anyway.

Halfway through pulling his shirt off, Zach nods in Thomas’s direction as he goes into the closet, searches briefly until he locates the extra blanket and pillows.

“You’re certain you don’t want to sleep in here?” Zach asks, tossing his t-shirt aside somewhere.

Thomas tries not to stare at his friend’s naked chest, and instead stares at a spot behind him. “Nah, man. We discussed this - you won’t fit on the couch. It’s all good.”

“Well, the bed is big enough. I’m sure if we, or rather I, adjusted a little bit we could both squeeze in here.”

_Oh, God. Please don’t._

“Really, it’s fine,” Thomas insists as he backs out of the bedroom. “We passed out on the couch last night and it was plenty comfortable. It’s not even a thing.”

Zach shrugs, clearly knowing that it’s a matter not worth pursuing. Thomas is glad of it.

.     .     .

Their second day in Tofino the rain shows no signs of stopping.

Thomas doesn’t bother trying to venture out in the whether again, and Zach teases him about the hole he fell into traumatizing him. Locating Zach’s eReader, Thomas asks him if he wouldn’t mind reading more _Good Omens_. Zach covers a few chapters over their morning coffee, and Thomas finds himself listing in and out of sleep, curled against the throw pillows on the couch, rearranging them so he’s curled against Zach instead.

This time, it’s Zach’s hand that finds its way into Thomas’s hair, pushing curls back away from his face. Thomas tries not to make a sound and fails miserably, letting out a soft sigh, tilting his head toward Zach’s touch.

.     .     .

The night arrives quicker than they had anticipated, though with the majority of the day spent not doing much of anything aside from napping and relaxing, neither of them are tired. Zach rummages around in a closet and finds some old board games, including a version of Mystery Date from the 1970’s, which is what he insists on playing.

Thomas liberates a six pack of beer from the fridge and brings it out to the living room, and Zach cocks an eyebrow at him by way of asking if he really intends on drinking all of those. Thomas answers by handing one of the cans to Zach.

When the damp air from the rainy night begins to seep into the cottage, Thomas eventually sets about lighting a fire, though he’s woefully out of practice. Two beer deep, Zach is of absolutely no help, the alcohol having begun to hit him like a tonne of bricks one beer ago.

“This is terribly romantic, isn’t it?” Zach asks from the couch, polishing off the remainder of his can of Blue Buck as he glances around the cottage.

“Yeah,” Thomas replies as he looks into the fire before casting a look back at Zach over his shoulder.

Continuing to stand by the fire, Thomas fidgets and picks at the skin around his fingernails, weighing the pros and cons of adding more to that response. He hopes that Zach won't ask any follow up questions.

“Why did you invite me here?”

_Fuck._

Sighing, Thomas turns to look back at Zach, who is sprawled over the couch once more (it is clearly impossible for him _not_ to sprawl), empty can of beer dangling from his long fingers, chin on the armrest. Pursing his lips together, Thomas slowly wanders back over to the couch, trailing his fingertips along the back of Zach’s hand.

Zach drops the empty can of beer.

“Because … I’d already made the reservation. And I didn’t want to lose the deposit.”

“C’mon,” Zach says, with a tilt of his head. “You would’ve been out - what? - a hundred bucks or so? Sucks but that’s not the real reason.” Zach sits a little more upright, though with some degree of difficulty. “Tell me. Why am I here.”

“Do I really need to say it?” Thomas asks, his fingers still moving along Zach’s hand, looking anywhere but at Zach.

“Yes,” Zach replies, shifting his hand so that he can grab onto Thomas’s wrist.

Thomas gasps.

Zach hauls him closer.

“What would happen if I kissed you?” Zach asks, as Thomas braces his hands against the back of the coach, his body poised over Zach’s.

If this was going to happen, Thomas really hadn’t expected it to after only forty eight hours alone in a cottage together. He figured that they both might have a little bit more willpower than that.

Evidently not.

“Are you trying to intimidate me?” Thomas asks, raising his eyebrows and crowding into Zach’s personal space, situating himself onto Zach’s lap. Zach makes no effort to push him off, instead his hands settle on the small of Thomas’s back, and he tilts his head up. Blue eyes alarmingly brighter than usual, pink lips parted in anticipation. “Because it’s not working,” Thomas murmurs.

“Then kiss me,” Zach breathes, his large hands moving up Thomas’s t-shirt, covering the plain of his back.

Thomas obliges.

.     .     .

There’s a story behind how Zach got so good at giving head, and Thomas makes a mental note to ask him some day. But right now all he can think of how unfairly sexy Zach looks on his knees, hands splayed over Thomas’s highs, spreading his legs wide.

Thomas tries not to move too much, but he can’t help but lift his hips off the couch, can’t help but fuck Zach’s mouth just a little bit.

Zach responds by moaning around Thomas’s cock and opening his eyes to gaze up at him.

Thomas responds by pulling on Zach’s hair and coming down his throat.

.     .     .

Their third day in Tofino it continues to rain, so they spend the entirety of it in bed.

The queen sized bed is barely big enough for the two of them, and Zach’s feet poke out from under the covers at the bottom. It doesn’t occur to him to adjust his position in any way as they lay in bed, as he animatedly tells a story with the use of his hands for eighty-seven percent of it, moving his feet in mid-air as if he were tapping them along to a tune. Thomas lays propped up on his elbow, his other hand tracing idle patterns over Zach’s chest.

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” Zach asks. “You’re just eye fucking me.”

“Mostly,” Thomas responds.

Zach smiles and turns his head to look out the window, watching the rain fall outside. “Does it ever stop raining here?”

“Usually the day you’re meant to leave,” Thomas replies, flopping onto his back. “That’s how it works when it rains on vacations, isn’t it?”

Zach hums in agreement as Thomas moves over his body, kissing a path down his throat. It turns from playful to something else very quickly, and Zach’s chuckles turn into moans as Thomas disappears beneath the blankets.

.     .     .

Thomas extricates himself from the bed long enough to cobble together something for dinner, though he can’t be bothered to put too much effort into it. He returns with a vegetarian charcuterie board to find Zach dozing, though his eyes blink open as Thomas crawls back onto the bed with sustenance.

Zach mumbles something about how eating in bed is terrible habit to get into, and Thomas threatens to take away the food and eat it all himself. Zach grabs a handful of olives and shoves them all in his mouth. Thomas isn’t sure which he is more of - amused, horrified, or impressed. He settles on all three, especially as Zach tries not to laugh while chewing around a lot more than one can comfortably fit in their mouth.

There’s a great joke in there somewhere, but Thomas is too busy laughing to make it come to fruition.

.     .     .

Their fourth day in Tofino the skies clear and the sun begins to peek through the clouds.

Thomas is up early, the sun just barely over the horizon when he gets up, though it is done with a great deal of difficulty. Leaving the bed is hard enough, leaving the bed with Zach’s arms wrapped around him makes it harder.

He puts a pot of coffee on and tilts his head to look up and out of the window over the sink. Clouds still cover the sky, but patches of blue are visible as the wind changes their trajectory. Thomas reaches for a pamphlet that lists all of the outdoorsy things he'd wanted to do while he was up here, but now all he wants to do is be with Zach.

There aren’t enough hours in the day.

.     .     .

There's still an early morning chill when they make it down to the beach, and when Thomas kicks off his shoes and rolls up his pant legs to step in the water, he proclaims it far too cold. He lets out only maybe a little scream.

Zach carries Thomas’s sneakers as they walk down the length of the beach, even though Thomas insists that he not. It's still too early, too cold for the beach to be populated, but they do see a few people surfing and encounter a few other people out for a walk, some with dogs. One particularly eager Mini Australian Shepherd mistakes one of Thomas’s shoes for a chew toy and begins chewing on the heel of it as Zach crouches down to pet him. Thomas would be cross if she wasn’t the cutest dog he’d seen since Meatloaf, and he suddenly misses his dogs a whole lot.

They walk along the beach until they pass all other people on it. It's then that Zach reaches out with his free hand and grabs one of Thomas’s.

.     .     .

The shower for the cottage is outdoors, which took a few days to get used to, but it's a novel change from your everyday shower. It’s not like it’s entirely out in the open, but the stall is outside which is still accessible through the cottage. There’s a bathtub in the washroom, but neither Thomas nor Zach has made use of it yet. Zach wouldn’t fit, anyway.

In the name of conserving water, Zach suggests they shower together. It's nice, and Thomas thinks that surely something sexual will happen. But it's clear that Zach has only cleanliness in mind. It's still nice.

“Have you ever tried to have sex in a shower?” Zach asks, as he lathers up the shampoo in Thomas’s hair. “It's terrible.”

“Once,” Thomas replies, tipping his head back slightly so as not to get shampoo in his eyes. “I slipped off her and fell. Pretty sure she grabbed onto the shower curtain and that was the only thing that saved her. I still ended up with the heel of her foot crushing my thigh.”

Zach hums, as if to say “Well, then,” because they certainly won't be doing that.

Slippery shower be damned, that certainly isn't going to stop Thomas. He steps closer to Zach and reaches between his legs, wrapping a soapy hand around his dick. Zach’s eyelids slide closed and he makes a soft noise, resting his chin on top of Thomas’s head. Thomas backs them both under the warm spray of the water, sluicing over their bodies, washing away soap, washing away the grime of sleep and having been down at the beach.

Zach braces his hands against the walls of the shower, body bowing toward Thomas’s touch. His face is still pressed in Thomas’s wet curls, and he breathes harshly, steadily as Thomas jerks his cock slowly.

There aren’t enough hours in the day, but he feels like they have all the time in the world.

.     .     .

The day is still young, so they pile into the rented car and make amends to actually go and do something aside from roll around in bed together. Even if that is exactly what they both want to do.

The windows of the car are all open, both of them craving the fresh air after locking themselves in the cottage, both of them wanting to blow the scent of wood fire and sex off.

Zach pulls out a map that Thomas has circled some things on, and suggests Big Tree Trail on Meares Island. As the location would suggest, they’ll need an alternate mode of transportation aside from the car, so Zach pulls out his cell phone and calls a charter company listed on the pamphlet he found in the glovebox.

It hasn’t even occurred to Thomas to check his phone since that first night when he had practically no bars, so he’s simply kept it turned off since then. He rummages around in his front pocket and turns it on, he’ll want to take pictures of the trail anyway. Keeping his eyes on the road, he gives his phone a moment before glancing quickly at his messages.

There’s a couple from Mollie, just saying that she hopes they’re having a good time, and couple pictures of their dogs.

Thomas awkwardly thumbs at his wedding band, spinning it around on his finger, as his hands clutch the steering wheel.

.     .     .

Since he’s not on set, Thomas has elected not to shave - he’s got too much of a baby face and honestly he’s too lazy to shave most days and would just rather not. Considering it's been some weeks since they’ve wrapped he’s got a sufficiently mountain man-esque beard going on. One that apparently Zach delights in. As they hike along the trail, Thomas stopping to take pictures, Zach plucks daisies and then weaves them through Thomas’s beard.

By the time that they get to the Hanging Garden his chin is decorated with white and yellow flowers.

Thomas jokes about Zach being almost as tall as the trees as they take a couple of selfies together, and Zach grabs him by the collar of his jacket and hauls him in for a quick, fiery kiss. They separate just as an older couple crests the boardwalk, waving and pleasantly asking them if they would like someone to take their picture together with the towering red cedar tree.

In the photograph that Thomas will look at later, he admits that they make a pretty cute couple, just like the woman who took it said.

There are still daisies in his beard.

.     .     .

After dinner that evening, they wander down to the beach, armed with blankets and a thermos filled with hot coffee. Zach wants to watch the sunset since it’s the first clear day that they’ve had, and who knows what kind weather the rest of their stay will bring.

There aren’t many people on the beach, a smattering of people surfing, some walking, a few others with the same idea as them. It suits Thomas just fine as Zach wraps the blanket around the both of them and they burrow into one another.

Thomas knows that he should marvel at the sight of the sunset, but instead he marvels at the sight of Zach.

The crowd of people meandering on the beach dissipates, and when the darkness overtakes the light, Zach grabs Thomas by the shoulders and pins him to the blanket beneath them. It’s all instinct at this point - Thomas’s hand curls at the back of Zach’s head and draws him in closer, Zach’s mouth finding Thomas’s despite the absence of light. Zach covers Thomas’s body with his own, and Thomas finds he’s already gasping Zach’s name at the slightest of touches.

When they eventually retreat back to the cottage, they have sand in places where sand shouldn’t be.

.     .     .

The air is cool, but the Thomas can already feel the warmth of the sun through the bedroom window sun on their fifth day in Tofino.

When Thomas’s eyes open, far too early in the morning, he’s not at all surprised to see that Zach is already awake. He’s sitting upright and propped up against the pillows, eReader in one hand, the other absently stroking Thomas’s arm, long slender fingers calling goosebumps to rise along his skin.

Thomas shifts and turns, his body facing Zach’s, and rests his cheek on Zach’s thigh, humming as the ministrations of his fingers continue along his arm.

“You’re not reading _Good Omens_ without me, are you?” Thomas asks groggily, reaching and settling his hand on Zach’s knee.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Zach replies, setting his Kindle aside.

Closing his eyes and humming, Thomas tilts his head toward the touch of Zach’s hand in his hair. The energy in the air changes from static to electrifying, and Thomas is sitting astride Zach’s lap, hands fisted into his t-shirt, grinding down against him. Zach moans, head tilted back, exposing the long column of his swan-like throat, which Thomas relishes in attacking with fervor. There are a light smattering of fading bruises from Thomas’s lips and teeth along Zach’s collarbone - he weighs the pros and cons of leaving more.

Then he realizes he doesn’t care, wants Zach to wear those bruises like some kind of fucked up badge of honour.

“Does it ever stop?” Thomas gasps, as Zach’s hips ascend from the bed to meet his. “The wanting you?”

“Jesus Christ, I hope not.”

.     .     .

In the late morning they go stand-up paddle boarding - Zach is, of course, a natural at it despite his center of gravity being much higher off the ground (or water) than Thomas’s. Thomas, on the other hand, falls into the water more times than everyone else (it’s seven), but considering it’s a two hour tour of Tofino Peninsula and Mackenzie Beach and all of his tumbles occurred in the first half hour, by the end of the tour his pride has fully recovered.

With Mackenzie Beach on the other side of the island from where the cottage is located, Zach suggests that they spend some time there soaking up some sun. Given how pale he tends to be, Thomas is a bit shocked by the suggestion, but is definitely game for laying on a beach for a few hours.

The wind is still cool, whipping angrily around them, which makes the prospect of disrobing even a little bit on the beach questionable. Thomas finds that he runs warm anyway, so sitting on the edge of the water in shorts and a t-shirt isn’t completely unfathomable, but Zach keeps his hoodie on, the hood over his head. It’s an oddly endearing contrast to his bare legs, exposed to the elements and covered in goosebumps.

“We don’t have to stay out here if you’re cold,” Thomas says, laying back on a towel as he watches Zach get up and stretch.

Zach shakes his head. “I kinda want to get in as much outdoorsy stuff as possible. Besides, it’s really nice out. Nice here. And we’ll be out of here in two days.”

_Oh._

_Right._

This isn’t, and wasn’t, meant to last forever. They’ll leave the island, go back to Los Angeles, go back to “real life.” There’s a world beyond the shores of the northern tip of Vancouver Island, one where they can’t spend the mornings in bed together, one where they can’t trade touches and kisses, using them as a form of currency. _If I kiss you there, will you kiss me here?_

Zach looks immediately apologetic and frowns, unceremoniously sitting down next to Thomas, ass landing hard in the sand. “I’m sorry,” he mutters.

“It’s fine. I mean. We knew this wasn’t a forever thing.”

The realization hits Thomas in the gut and knocks the wind out of him.

.     .     .

They’re barely over the threshold of the entrance to the cottage before Thomas is slotting his lips against Zach’s, tongue plunging into the warm depths of his mouth. Zach kicks the door closed behind them, and Thomas promptly shoves him back against it, the egress rattling with the force of it. Zach fists his hands in Thomas’s shirt just as Thomas pulls away, leaving Zach looking momentarily wounded, before sinking down to his knees in front of him.

Making short work of the barrier between himself and Zach’s dick, Thomas yanks the front of Zach’s shorts open and pulls his underwear down just enough to free what looks like an achingly hard erection. Thomas knows the feeling all too well and reaches down between his own legs to palm at himself.

Zach’s head thumps back against the door with such violence as Thomas’s lips close over the head of his cock that Thomas momentarily wonders if they should go to the hospital.

The hands fisted in his hair, forcing him down over Zach’s length suggest that they’re not going anywhere.

.     .     .

The night has long since given way to morning, and Thomas can’t bring himself to sleep.

He can’t stop looking at Zach, who has seems to have less trouble sleeping but occasionally blinks open his eyes and shifts closer to him. He can’t stop thinking about how bringing him up here was mistake.

Not because of what happened, but because it will have to end.

Zach’s eyes open slowly, as if he can feel Thomas’s gaze on him. Thomas meets Zach’s eyes, still so blue and bright even in the dark, and offers him a small smile, before he’s moving closer to him, moving over him. Zach angles his head, meeting Thomas’s lips for the briefest of moments, before Thomas is descending upon Zach’s neck and collarbone with a flurry of kisses, hands moving over the planes of his body, jutting hipbones, soft stomach. He wants to touch every single inch of him, commit every part of him to his memory. Thomas doesn’t want to leave this stupid fucking island without being able to close his eyes and remember every detail of Zach’s body.

“Let me,” Thomas breathes, even though Zach has said nothing.

Thomas leaves no part of Zach’s body untouched - lips grazing over delicate skin, over the bruises he’s left over his throat, over the scrapes the thorns in the forest left on his legs, hands moving over his arms, twining their fingers together. There’s skin, red and fiery, along the inside of his thigh, from Thomas’s beard when he went down on him with vigor earlier, and Thomas nuzzles him there. Zach’s body twitches.

They’ll never have this again.

They can’t.

“Thomas -” Zach whispers, his fingers gently moving through Thomas’s hair.

“Please. Just let me.”

.     .     .

Desperation and a particular kind of sadness creeps into the cottage on their sixth day in Tofino.

The sun warms the cottage, the grass and trees damp from the night before, and though it would be the perfect day to go down to the beach, maybe surf, maybe just lie there, neither of them wishes to venture outside. Not when they have everything that they want inside.

It’s not even eight o’clock in the morning, and already Thomas is on his knees, has his face pressed into the sheets, gasping and groaning, fingers grabbing and clutching at anything close enough to him for purchase - pillows, the nightstand, the headboard, the sheets. Zach is bent over his body, tongue tracing around the shell of his ear, already panting with struggle of not coming too soon, of not hurting him. It takes more effort than either of them had given any thought to.

“ _Christ_ ,” Thomas sobs, trying to both clamber away and press back against Zach’s hips. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It hurts _so fucking much_. It feels _so fucking good_. “Fuck me. _Fuck me_.”

His cock, throbbing and painfully hard, twitches between his legs as Zach presses further inside of him. Thomas makes a noise that sounds like it’s being wrenched from manner of wild animal. Zach kisses the nape of his neck, one hand reaching for Thomas’s cock, loosely wrapping his long fingers around him. A full body shudder ripples through Thomas, precome leaking from his cock onto the sheets beneath him. Zach’s other hand reaches for Thomas’s neck, gently wrapping around this throat and applying just enough pressure to make Thomas gasp, as he moves inside of him, slowly fucking him open.

Pleasure tingles at the end of every nerve in his body, and Thomas almost can’t bring himself to give into it, to move, frightened that he’ll shatter right then and there. He can’t stand it. But then he’s moving with Zach, fucking himself back onto his cock, moving forward, his cock sliding through the tendril of Zach’s fingers.

Zach’s fingers spanning the expanse of his throat, Thomas tips his head back, wishing he could see Zach’s face. Lips brushing against a stubbled cheek, Thomas turns and tries to connect with literally any part of Zach’s face, so badly wanting to kiss him, and instead settles for the futile attempts to do so.

Thomas can’t tell if it’s the squeeze of Zach’s fingers around his neck, his airway feeling a little more constricted than it usually does, or if there’s something lodged there. He swallows thickly, adam’s apple bobbing against delicate fingers.

He knows what’s there. It’s an affirmation. Thomas is thankful for the tightening hand around his throat, he’ll feel like an ass if he says it. He tries anyway.

“ _Zach_. I -”

“I know,” Zach murmurs, teeth scraping along Thomas’s shoulder blade. “ _God_ , I know.”

.     .     .

The rumbling in their stomachs suggest relocating to the kitchen, which is just as well, they were getting tired of the bedroom anyway.

Zach makes breakfast while Thomas makes coffee, and it all feels terribly domestic. In their rummaging of the closets earlier in the week they happened upon a few milk crates full of records, old and new, to go with the record player in the living room that was, for some reason, not hooked up. They’ve been playing rock, paper, scissors in order to pick what they put on next, and this morning Zach has won and puts on Wang Chung’s _Mosaic_.

Thomas hates acting like everything is fine, everything is normal, because it feels far from it. Also, he can’t walk properly so there’s that. But mostly his heart aches in a very specific way that he can’t recall it having ever done before.

“We’re not going to finish _Good Omens_ , are we?” Thomas asks as they sit at the table in the nook just off the kitchen, pushing around the remainder of his scrambled eggs.

“I mean, probably not while we’re up here,” Zach replies after setting down his glass of orange juice. “I still have all manner of intentions toward you.”

“So, not at all.”

Zach forces a laugh and his eyebrows knit together as he tilts his head and regards Thomas. “You’re acting like we’re never going to see each other again. We work together. And … we’re friends.” He pauses and drags his teeth along his bottom lip. “Aren’t we?”

“Yes! Of course we’re friends. It’s just …” Thomas sighs, trying to articulate what it is that he wants to say. “It’s going to feel weird to take things from this place, things we did here, and bring them back with us.”

“Right,” Zach says slowly, carefully. “I understand.”

“It all feels terribly _Brokeback Mountain_ ,” he mutters, and he feels like he’s sulking, because he definitely is.

“You’re always so terribly dramatic.”

“Oh, I am not.”

Zach chuckles, standing up and grabbing his plate and Thomas’s before heading back to the kitchen. Thomas watches him for a moment, as he puts their dishes in the sink and begins to fill it with water. The air feels still, not electric, for the first time since they arrived.

It’s a peculiar feeling.

Thomas stands slowly and makes his way over to the kitchen, standing behind Zach and wrapping his arms around him. Zach is far too tall for him to rest his chin on his shoulder, which is what he wants to do, so instead he settles for pressing his cheek against his back. Zach places his hand over one of Thomas’s, and Thomas squeezes his arms around Zach a little tighter.

“I don’t regret any of it,” he whispers. “Any of this.”

“I don’t either,” Zach says, his voice strained.

They collectively decide that the dishes can wait.

.     .     .

Zach declares that they need more space, the bed is barely big enough for him let alone the both of them. They pull all manner of blankets, pillows, and cushions off the bed, out of closets, off the couch, and spread them out over the floor in the living room, creating what Thomas dubs as a very hedonistic looking pile of things to fuck on.

The weather in the Pacific Northwest being fickle as it is, the warm, sunny day shifts to something dark and sinister, the dreary clouds bringing with them rumbling thunder and torrential rains. Thomas lights a fire, carefully building it into a crescendo, and then does the same with Zach, plying him open with slick and tentative fingers.

Thomas has been in awe of how responsive Zach is all week - the lightest brush of fingers, of lips, has him shuddering, as if experiencing touch for the first time. And this? Well, _this_ has him bowing off the floor, back arched, crying out as he fists blankets in one hand, his cock in the other. Thomas watches, rapt, as Zach moans, begs for more, a pink-hued flush covering his chest and his cheeks, the pupils in those bright blue eyes completely blown.

How can Thomas go back to a life where he doesn’t know this every damn day for the rest of his fucking days? It hardly seems fair.

He lets go of a breath that he doesn’t realize he’s holding, and then finds himself holding it once more, waiting in anticipation as he gently spreads the three fingers he’s got buried deep in Zach’s asshole apart.

When Zach comes, whimpering and moaning as his orgasm wracks his body, Thomas’s name sounds like a hymn on his lips.

.     .     .

One of them must’ve gotten up to put another record on, though Thomas has no recollection of it. Hawksley Workman’s _Lover/Fighter_ weaves its way melodically through the cottage, and Thomas feels the same stirring that he always has whenever he hears “Smoke Baby.”

The air reeks of sex, and Zach even had the foresight to open a few windows. Not that Thomas is particularly bothered by it, but he hopes that there’s a few days between him and Zach leaving and the next occupants arriving.

Absolutely spent, Thomas lies boneless on the pile of blankets, pillows, and things, curled against Zach, face pressed into the hollow of his throat. Zach’s arm wrapped around him, left hand resting loosely on his shoulder, while the fingers of his right brush gently against his cheek and through his beard. Thomas’s eyes feel heavy, yet he refuses to close them - he wants to drink in this sight for as long as he has it.

“What do we do when we leave?” Thomas asks, even though he’s certain that Zach doesn’t have any more answers than he does.

“I assume you’re talking about the elephant in the room and not the mechanics of actually leaving,” Zach says with a completely straight face, and Thomas can’t find it in himself to be frustrated.

“Yeah, that.”

Zach sighs and purses his lips together, eyes flickering over Thomas’s face, like he too is trying to hold onto this for as long as he can. “Just. Go back to normal, I guess. What is there that we can do? The world spins madly on.”

“So. Pretend it never happened.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Zach murmurs. “Maybe, just. Acknowledge that it was a one time thing. Well, a one time thing over many days. But, it’s like you said. It will feel strange to take things from this place and bring them back with us.”

Thomas nods, the motion barely perceptible if not for the scrape of his whiskers against Zach’s chest. His fingers fan out across the bruise under Zach’s collarbone, red and angry and accompanied by teeth marks. Zach trembles beneath his touch, and Thomas leans in to kiss him, tongue delving into the warmth of his mouth. Zach holds Thomas tight against him, and somewhere amidst the folds of blankets, sheets, and the tangle of limbs, Thomas locates Zach’s free hand and laces their fingers together.

It feels strangely intimate. And while they’d held hands many times during the week, this feels different. Hell, they’ve done things a million times more deliciously improper than hold hands, but this is what has the pit in Thomas’s stomach weighing even more heavily.

Gasping against Zach’s lips, Thomas makes an effort to haul Zach closer even though there is virtually no way that he can, unless their atoms occupied the same space. It doesn’t stop him from trying.

Zach’s lanky frame is suddenly over his, pinning him down against the floor, against the blankets and covers. His hands, smoothing down over Thomas’s chest, do nothing to alleviate the burning, the ache, that Thomas feels all over his body, as he bends toward Zach’s touch.

Thomas grabs onto Zach’s biceps and holds on tightly. He finds that he doesn’t dare, doesn’t want to let go.

.     .     .

When morning inevitably greets them, it’s Thomas who makes the executive decision that there are three distinct categories of time. There’s the Before, the During, and the After. He’s not eloquent enough to give them clever names or abbreviations, at least not with so few hours of sleep.

But once they woefully untangle themselves from one another and rise from from the pile of bedding on the floor they exist in the After.

No more days to be spent tucked away in the Canadian wilderness, revelling in one another instead of the scenery. Time has finally transcended from During to After - and they’ll never have it again.

They go about their morning, packing up and doing some light cleaning - their flight doesn’t leave out of Victoria’s international airport until late afternoon. And Thomas is thankful for that, as neither of them are moving particularly quickly. But who would after having essentially spent the past day and a half fucking?

It doesn’t feel strange or strained. Whether Thomas has gotten exceptionally good and pushing his feelings deep down inside of himself to be acknowledged at a later date or not at all he can’t say. Whatever it is, everything feels okay. Zach is still delightfully strange and impossibly kind, as if his cock wasn’t in Thomas’s ass less than twenty four hours ago. But then again, why would that change anything? It’s not Zach that Thomas was ever worried about, it was himself.

He’s not certain that he’s strong enough to let this all go. But it’s not up to him. There’s someone waiting for him, and whether or not he’ll ever tell her he doesn’t know. Thomas is glad that Mollie isn’t waiting for him at home at least, she’s gone to New Orleans to spend some time with friends, which means he won’t have to explain the hickeys, the bites, the scratches. He knows that makes him a bad person, to keep secrets from the one person that he swore never to keep secrets from. He’s sure he’ll tell her, just maybe not right away. Thomas isn’t even sure what it is he would say.

All he knows is that whatever he and Zach had, it was a fleeting thing. The culmination of years of working together, of being friends, of wanting _something_ to happen and not entirely certain what that something was.

Whatever it was, it’s over.

Thomas is both glad of that, and devastated.

“Just one last time,” Thomas rasps, as they stand at the threshold of the cottage, luggage already in the car. “Then we’ll be done with it.”

Zach manages a small nod, resting his forehead against Thomas’s, before Thomas’s hand is curling at the back of his neck. Thomas has to tilt his head up, Zach has to crouch down ever so slightly. When their lips meet it’s everything fiery and electric about that first kiss, but with everything familiar.

Breathing harshly through his nose, Thomas can’t remember the last time he put his all into a kiss quite like this. Zach holds onto him tightly, holds him close, as their mouths collide against one another, not so much battling for dominance, but searching. Searching for what remains of the time that they spent together. They’re both delighted to find that it’s still there, lingering on the softness of lips, on the tips of tongues.

It’s exhilarating and intimate all at once.

.     .     .

“I’m sorry that we’ll never finish _Good Omens_ ,” Zach says, as he fastens his seatbelt on the plane.

Thomas shrugs as he does the same, then turns to look out the window for a moment. “It’s okay, man. I mean, they’re making it into a movie, aren’t they? I can just go see that.”

“Or you could actually read the rest of it,” Zach says with a fond smile, as Thomas looks over at him.

Thomas shrugs. “It wouldn’t quite be the same, would it?”

“I guess not.”

Thomas forces a smile, and goes back to looking out the window, watching as the baggage is brought to the plane, seeing if he can spot his. He hears Zach moving around next to him, digging through his carry on and shifting in his seat. Even though they’re flying first class there’s still not enough legroom - there never is when you’re Zach Woods, apparently.

“Hey,” Zach says, reaching out and touching Thomas’s arm. “There’s only two chapters left. We can probably finish it before we’re out of BC.”

Thomas laughs a little, turning toward Zach. “I guess if we finish it before we’re out of the province then we’re technically not taking it with us, are we?”

Zach smiles brightly, tapping the side of Thomas’s head. “Smart cookie.” He grabs his eReader out of the seat pocket and settles back in his seat. “So. Do you want to?”

“Absolutely.”

They can’t get quite as comfortable as they did at the cottage, but Thomas turns slightly in his seat. Though he can’t quite lean against Zach, can’t quite touch him as he did before, with one finger he traces idle patterns on Zach’s bare arm, revelling in the way the goosebumps rise on his skin. He feels like this sort of touching might be cheating since they are in the After.

He also feels like he doesn’t fucking care.

“It was very early on Saturday morning, on the last day of the world, and the sky was redder than blood …”

.     .     .

When they make their return to Los Angeles things go back to normal.

They have to.

.     .     .

When it eventually comes time to go back to work, or at least back to work together, Thomas is both eager and full of dread.

They have their first table read almost five months to the day that Thomas kissed Zach for the first time. It’s a strange anniversary that no one is likely to celebrate. It’s long after the bruises from kisses, hickeys, and bites that they inflicted upon one another have faded, but the memories of a week in Tofino remained, at least for Thomas. How could he forget? But Thomas has, for all intents and purposes, acted like nothing had happened. At least, not anything worth mentioning. He and Zach haven’t talked about it since landing in L.A. all those months ago, simply went back to how things were. It was for the best.

There was nothing to be gained by attempting to turn into some manner of Thing. It had been a Thing, for one week and one week only.

Zach, of course, takes the seat next to Thomas when he arrives. Thomas is both glad of it and wishes that he hadn’t. It’s difficult to act like nothing at all happened, and he’s not sure if he’s a good enough actor to keep up the facade. But Zach doesn’t really give him a choice - Zach who is as wonderful as he is strange. Thomas doesn’t stand a chance, especially when Zach launches into a story recounting the bad day he had about a week ago, and Thomas is left in stitches.

Zach smiles at him, slowly and then all at once. It’s one of the most stunningly gorgeous things that Thomas has ever seen, and it kills him.

Under the table, halfway through the read-through, Zach’s knee bumps against Thomas’s. It could easily be interpreted as something that just happened when two people were sitting in such close proximity to one another and one of them moves. Thomas, however, spends a lot more time reading into it than he probably should.

He can sense every movement going on beneath the table, feels the way Zach shifts as he rubs his hand against his thigh. Thomas does his best to listen to Kumail and Martin, reciting lines down the table from him, but all he can think about is the way that Zach is rearranging himself next to him.

Thomas doesn’t think about it. At least not too much. Because he’s certain that it’s definitely a breach of a lot of things - some human resources nonsense about onset behaviour, of course - but also the fact that they are now living in the After. They’ve gone months without doing or saying anything that could be even remotely interpreted as referring to their little summer fling - back to normal. And now, all of a sudden, Zach's body is asking questions and Thomas’s feels like it’s on fire.

He shouldn’t do a damn thing.

But all the same, he reaches out, and tentatively places his hand over top of Zach’s.

Zach responds by lacing their fingers together.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://antiquitea.tumblr.com) where I yell in my tags a lot about how angry attractive boys make me.


End file.
